Cross to Bare
by ALC Punk
Summary: Post Crossroads, Sam Anders deals with certain realities in life, and finds something he wasn't expecting.


Disclaimer: not mine.  
SPOILERS: Crossroads 2, and the BSG comic.  
Rating: er, PG13, language, sex references.  
Pairing: Surprisingly, this is a spoiler. You can always use your back button.  
length: 1,000+?  
Notes: Yes, I wrote this at work. It was meant to be a drabble. Good intentions, and all. For the record, I hate titles. 

_**Cross to Bare**_ by ALC Punk!

Sam doesn't know what to think when her viper lands, when she climbs out and everyone cheers Starbuck's triumphant return.

He's a cylon, and his wife has issues with cylons.

So instead of going to her, he stands, and watches. She rarely misses him anyway, and Lee's up there, laughing with her, hugging her.

A bit of jealousy flares, and Sam shoves it away.

This is how it will be.

He's a cylon. She won't want him, and he's honest enough with himself to know that he couldn't go to her without telling her.

"Sam!" Her shout comes right before he turns to go.

It's like picking a scab. It hurts to stop and look at her, to--hell, he can't help but smile. She's alive. His girl is alive like he said she would be. His body is moving before his mind catches up and he's halfway across the deck when she collides with him.

Holding her is like coming home. It always has been, and he's frightened by the thought that it always will be.

Her lips skim his cheek, then she whispers, "Gotta talk to you. Later."

Then she's gone, back into the crowd. The Admiral needs her report, and her husband needs a cold shower. Or maybe a drink.

--

Joe's is buzzing with Starbuck's miraculous return and her road to Earth, not to mention that the Cylons are simply sitting out there, not talking to them, but not firing either. Sam nurses the last drink Connors gave him, trying to make it last. Charlie cut him off two drinks ago, but Sam convinced him he needed two drinks more, and Charlie always was a bit of a pushover.

"Hey, honey," Kara invades his personal space, leaning into him before he even realizes she's there.

"Hey, baby," he replies, because that's what she expects. Because that's what he wants to say. He moves to kiss her, and she kisses back. She doesn't taste like alcohol, which is new. But then, he hasn't tasted anything but the 'shine for hours.

When she pulls back, she leans against him with a soft sigh. "You're done here, Sam."

"Got cut off," he replies, tone mournful.

"Figures." A tug on his arm nearly makes him fall off the stool, and Kara oofs as she half-catches him. "You're too frakkin' heavy. Stand on your own, idiot."

Sam can do that, he wants to tell her. He's had to stand on his own a hell of a lot, without her. But he doesn't. He just stands, waves a hand at Connors and lets her pull him from the bar.

Too many corridors and one set of stairs later (he almost fell and took them both down), and Sam finds himself shoved into one of the storage rooms. He has a vague idea that he knows where they are, but he doesn't exactly care. Kara closes the door and shoots the bolts home before turning and leaning against it, looking at him.

And suddenly, he doesn't know what to say. He knows what he should say--what he still hasn't come to terms with. But she's alive. Alive and so beautiful and real that she takes his breath away.

"So." She seems at a loss for a moment, then half-smirks, "You're a cylon."

The fact that she knows doesn't really surprise him. "Yeah. Apparently." It still doesn't seem real, though. He watched his friends die, his planet get destroyed--and for what? He slumps, "Guess it's time to lock me in the brig."

"Now why would I do that? Unless you have some sort of fetish for being in hack."

He blinks at her, confused, "You hate cylons."

"I hate some cylons," she qualifies, beginning to move, a lazy walk towards him that could easily become a stalk. "Sharon and I, for instance, get along just fine."

"Kara," Sam says, trying to get her to understand the seriousness of the situation, "I'm a cylon."

"Yeah. I noticed." Then she's pressed up against him, stretching up. There's no hesitation in her as her hands go up his chest, then behind his head, fingers tickling the back of his neck, "Shit, you cut your hair."

"What?"

Then her mouth is on his, and for just an instant, Sam thinks this is a stupid idea. But the kiss is gentle and insistent and he finds himself falling into it--falling into her, arms wrapping around her, hands pressing her closer. For a fleeting moment, he thinks about never letting her go.

Sex is always easy between them, Sam thinks as one of them moans. Sex and not-talking, except when one of them feels like talking. This is wrong, he wants to tell her, but she's alive.

Gloriously alive, and he can't stop himself from wanting her so much it hurts.

--

It's cold. Sam doesn't notice this until the sweat is drying on his skin. Kara's draped against him, not moving. He rubs a hand down her arm, noticing the goose bumps. "We should..." He can't think what they should do. He's a cylon and she's just frakked him.

"Blanket," Kara suggests, tone lazy.

"How did you know?" The question is abrupt, but Sam needs to understand. He's a little lost in the dark, still. After all, he's a cylon and... it still feels wrong.

A chuckle escapes her. "Your spine glows."

"Huh?"

"Now," Kara says, voice still amused. "Some women wouldn't notice that their husband's spine glows."

Disturbed, and a little confused, Sam slaps her ass, "Gonna give me a straight answer?"

She wriggles against him, obviously not as sleepy as she seems, "When you climax, Sam. It's subtle, but it's there. 'Course, it only lasts a short time."

Ah. He eyes her, amused, "So what you're saying is, if you were a cylon, your spine would glow for a minute, huh?"

"Women," Kara informs him, quite smug, "Have better orgasms."

"You certainly do when you're with me." He can't keep the smugness from his tone. This is frakked-up, and he's a cylon, but she isn't treating him differently. "How long have you known?"

"We lived in a tent, Sam. You used to light up my night at least once a day," She snickers, "And that was if I let you be on top."

"How can you be okay with this?"

"Well... Not to sound mushy, but I do kinda... y'know..." She stops for a moment, then continues, voice soft, "Love you."

It wasn't something he's heard from her often. Sam tightens his hold on her, "You love a cylon."

"Yeah."

Like that, he thinks, and it's all ok.

"Also," Kara moves, pushes up and she looks at him, eyes serious, "Zak was a cylon."

This has got to be a joke, Sam decides, "Yeah. Pull the other one."

"Okay, so he was a hybrid, or something--Baltar, the frakhead, knows more about that shit. But, trust me. Zak was a cylon."

There's nothing else he can say to that, really. "Guess that just makes you a big frakkin' cylon magnet, then."

"Ass," she slaps his shoulder, so he retaliates by groping her.

When her wriggling and mock-play oversets them both onto the floor, Sam figures this is just about right for them: frakked-up, oversexed and with far too much mockery between them. He thinks, as her mouth closes on his, that he's kind of glad he found her.

Ten minutes later, he's really glad she found him.

-f-


End file.
